


Catharsis

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Dom Hux, sub Kylo [22]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8568919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: You don't need pain to control someone.
You can hurt someone without lifting a hand.





	

It’s been an awful day. Scratch that - an awful fucking _month_. Everything that can go wrong has gone wrong (or… enough. Don’t tempt fate by counting pre-hatched birds, he reminds himself). It’s just dreadful, and he feels his feet dragging when he tries to walk from place to place. Gravity seems to have increased, or maybe his mass, but whatever it is it’s _awful_.

So when Hux orders him that night to strip, Kylo does. Not with vigour and excitement, but with a leaden pair of hands. He forces a puddle of a smile on his face, and bares himself utterly.

His dick doesn’t even try to get hard yet. But that’s okay, Hux can just insult it some and hit him until the pain is enough to respond. Or not respond. He can still get fucked even if it won’t behave, and that’s not out of the realm of possibility, if he’s honest with himself tonight.

The pain might make him feel something other than like a fog that’s been strained through air scrubbers. Distant, vague, disparate. His body is there but not his. Or… yes. It’s his, but it’s complicated. 

The anxiety’s been so extended by the day that it isn’t a little feverstorm of anger, it’s buried down inside somewhere. Somewhere he’ll need it cracking out of him, instead of a lash of tongue or Force. It’s not always convenient to explode as and when he initially needs to, and he’s learned to stow things away for better times.

Like now.

Hux puts the blindfold over his eyes, his fingers careful. Strands of hair are teased out, and the band settles over his ears and blocks out some of the light. His wrists are bound in cuffs - the heavy, strong ones - and a single finger on his sternum walks him backwards until his calves hit the bed. Arms spread wide and trusting, he falls, bouncing on the mattress. 

His lashes brush the blindfold, and he feels himself spread wide and secure. From instinct, he pulls at the bonds to know how surely he’s held, and then he waits for the first blow, pinch, sting, or toy.

Kylo’s foot twitches at the touch to the inside of his ankle. It’s ticklishly soft, and not what he expects. Again, and he realises Hux is kissing over his leg, a little trail up towards his groin. Up and over, swirling around his navel, then down to his other ankle.

“…Hux?”  


“Shhh,” Hux insists, but his tone is mild and soothing.  


Kylo does not feel soothed.

The next line of kisses happens, and this time a tongue dips into his navel. He squirms, the blood rushing everywhere he’s touched. It’s not hurting, and it’s not chiding, and it’s not anything right, so he pulls his wrists until the cuffs bite, and feels hands press his shoulders down, preventing that.

“Lie still, Kylo.”  


“Why?”  


“Because I asked you to, and because I’m in control. Aren’t I?”  


A moment of ‘no, fuck you’, then he nods. Yes. Hux is in control. Always. Even when Kylo doesn’t accept it, right off. He lets go of the opposition in his upper body, slumping back down again. (The fight had almost got there. Almost got to the point of growling. That place where his frustration flares and demands Hux be Stronger… but later. Later.)

More kisses, and hands stroke the outside of his legs. It’s all very soft and sweet, all very rhythmic. It’s true it’s pulling him back into his body, but it’s not doing it like it should. The pain is the only Real, True sensation. Or the Truest of them, anyway. His cock still doesn’t stir, but Hux is ignoring it, anyway. His kisses dazzle over his upper thighs, his balls, behind, and over his belly. Never staying in one place for long, and Kylo whines in utter confusion.

“Hux, _please_?”  


“Please what?”  


“Please - just - do it?”  


“I _am_ doing it, Kylo.”  


Another fight, and this time he whines when he bucks in the restraints. Hands that don’t press down just hold his hips as he jerks and contorts, riding out the latest wave of frustration. He keeps going, his tone getting reedier and reedier until his shame overtakes him. Kylo collapses, cringing down deeper, and feels the kisses bisect his torso, sawing across him left to right and back again.

“Please?” he begs.  


“You’re lying still and letting me love you, Kylo. You’ve forgotten how deeply I care about you, haven’t you?”  


“No?”  


That would normally get him punished, but Hux is clearly in a punish-Kylo-by-not-punishing-him mood. Which sucks. So, so much. He whines again, and the answering kisses make him melt and freeze in one.

“You’re going to submit to my love for you,” Hux says, his voice firm, but fair. Loving. Infinitely loving. “I’ve decided you’re going to lie back and be kissed until you’re begging for more.”  


“But–”  


“But what?”  


 _But the pain_? Kylo tries to dislodge the blindfold with his eyelashes, but it doesn’t work. Pain is easy. Pain is pure. It’s excessive stimulation of nerve endings, and it’s loud and bright and impossible to ignore. It’s the key, the core to everything. It tells you when you should stop, and when you ‘should’ stop, but should also keep going. 

He also deserves it. For all number of reasons, he deserves to be punished. Spanked, slapped, cut on hands that slice over his cheeks. Hair pulled, ass reamed, mouth used. He deserves to be just a whipping post for Hux’s aggressions, and also as some redress for all his sins and failures. For every time he could have been better and wasn’t. For every time he could have been calmer, more together, more… _good_. For every time he’s done something awful, and for needing Hux to give him all this in the first place. 

He. Deserves it.

He does not deserve the thumbs whorling over his hip-bones, or the way Hux’s chest brushes over his tummy when he kisses around his pecs. When his too-shaven face rubs over a nipple, when a tongue flicks out to taste. 

“ _Please_ ,” he begs, not able to cope under this level of adulation. He does not _deserve_ it. He is a _fraud_. A _sham_. He is not worthy of kindness, he is only here to be punis–  


A hand on his throat, and he hopes it presses down. He wants the feeling of his chest burning, wants his every gasp to be almost-death. He’s crying under the mask, the fat blobs rolling down his cheeks and snotting his nose up. The hand doesn’t tighten, the thumb running back and forth.

“Why do you want me to hurt you, Kylo?”  


“B-b-because I d-deserve it,” he says. “Please. Hux, please don’t do this.”  


The mask is pushed up, and he’s sobbing in frustration. It’s all wrong, and he can’t even be fucking right enough to enjoy affection. He’s such a ridiculous idiot. 

“I… d-don’t know why you… why you w-waste your time on me…”  


The hand stays, and lips kiss at the tears, pulling them from his face. He cries harder, that bubble of long-repressed fear and rage coming out just from kind touches. It’s wrong. He’s supposed to _hurt_ him, not _kiss him_. 

Hux doesn’t reply, but he continues kissing him through the sobs. Kylo can’t stop now the floodgates are open, even when he feels the older man move to sit astride his hips. Both hands on his face, elbows pushed into the bed, foreheads touching. Kylo sobs, and the touches to his ears burn like they _are_ fire.

“I am not wasting my time on you,” Hux whispers. “You are beautiful. Glorious. Powerful. Kind.”  


Kylo feels none of those things.

“You are so strong and fierce, you fight so hard for me. You’re a wonder, Kylo. A beautiful wonder. The galaxy tried to break you, and you refused to let it.”  


“D-doesn’t f-fffeeeel like it n-now.” He can’t even take compliments and kisses.  


“All that pain and misery and torment thrown your way, and you’re _still here_. You’re still trying, even though it hurts you. You’re so incredible, love.”  


Kylo feels another jag of tears, and each one is kissed and lapped from his face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to be,” Hux reminds him. He pulls Kylo’s face into his neck, just holding him for a moment. “You’re so strong for me. You work so hard. I am _so proud_ of you, and if you need to feel it to know I am telling the truth, you look right inside my mind.”  


He freaks out, head whipping aside in denial, rejection.

“I love you. I _love_ you. You. Who you are. Not who you think I want of you.”  


“I’m - I’m - _broken_.”  


“Everyone is,” Hux whispers. “Me, too. But you’re still here. You’re kind, and sweet, and smart, and funny. You work harder for our Empire than anyone alive. You take such responsibility on your shoulders, and you support me. I couldn’t do it without you.”  


Kylo thinks he could. Maybe a bit less efficiently and happily, but he could do it all the same. He hisses as the hands move to knead at his shoulders, which don’t carry nearly the burden Hux does. He thrashes, fighting the soft touches. He does not _d e s e r v e_ them. 

Hux does not let up, kissing and stroking and cooing soft reassurance. Kylo fights with all he has, yanking and kicking and crying until the energy is all spent, and he’s left a slack-limbed mess on the bed. Hux applies lips to his neck to suckle a very light mark there, and Kylo submits to the attention as a welcome relief from the too-soft of before. It’s not pain, but it’s more intense, and he moans into the touches. 

“ _Please_ ,” he whispers, once more.  


Hands draw over his chest, and find his hips. A kiss to the side of his mouth, and Kylo wants more. He does. He wants so much more.

“What do you want, Kylo?” Hux asks.  


Hurt me, hurt me, hurt me. “ _Make it stop_.” That’s what he wants, more than anything. He wants the distress to go, wants to find that place he goes when Hux removes all stress from his mind, even for a short while. That place where the worry he isn’t good enough is replaced with the knowledge that he _is_. Where the memory of his transgressions is still in play, but is something behind him. Where only good emotions and sensations exist.

“Trust me, then. Trust me when I say you’re more than enough.”  


“ _I want to_ ,” he admits. “I want to.”  


“You are so beautiful, Kylo. All the way inside, and all I want for you is for you to understand. To know how amazing you are, how brilliant and incredible. How you complete me, how you give me a reason. How you’re all I think of, all day, and how I’d give you anything if you just asked for it.”  


The words resound inside his chest, and Kylo knows he _means_ them, even if he thinks he shouldn’t. But Hux does, and that’s…

“Make love to me?” Kylo begs. “Make me yours. Please. I… I need to be yours. F-for how you… see me…”  


“Are you sure you’re ready?”  


Kylo nods. He is. He is. 

Hux unclips his ankles, and shunts his feet up to his butt. Pillows are pushed into place, tilting and offering his hole. He clenches on thin air, and feels the world bear down on his pucker just before a slicked finger (how did he do that?) twirls around his hole. It worms inside, and he knows he can do this. He can be this, he can be the willing hole for Hux to fill. 

It’s not even - it’s - when he’s inside, he feels safer. He’d keep his thighs wrapped around him and Hux’s cock in his hole all day if he could. Ride around snuggled to Hux’s chest as he goes about his daily business. The image makes him giggle a little, hysterical laughter, and then there’s two fingers in and oh man does he want it. 

He wants it. He loves feeling full, and feeling like he’s giving pleasure. His hips bounce lightly on the digits, and he gazes up to see the focus on Hux’s lips and nose and eyes.

“Open up for me, baby,” Hux purrs at him. “Gonna fuck the sense back into you. My beautiful boy, I’m going to remind you how happy you make me, how glad I am to have you in my life…”  


The words make him squawk, and then there’s three fingers punctuating the thought and Kylo doesn’t know what to do. This is worse than pain. Pain, at least, he knows he deserves. Praise is something else entirely, and he just _wants_ to deserve it. He pulls at the restraints again, and then his eyes roll up inside his head as those fingers bend inside and start to wriggle and tug at his hole, pushing down on his prostate. It’s hard to think at all, and his cock is - oh yes - definitely hard now. It arcs over his belly in appreciation, and he paws at him with his feet as he tries to get Hux in deeper.

“ _Please, I’m yours, I’m yours, I swear, I’m yours, only yours_.”  


“And who gets to decide if you’re enough?”  


Kylo whines, feeling the fingers still. “Y-you.”

“And when I tell you I want to tie you down and kiss you all over?”  


Back to crying, but it’s a weirdly cathartic cry, now. Bliss and horror in one, and his lips smile like a bare skull. “I’m sorry I can’t handle it,” he whispers. “I’m sorry it’s so hard for me.”

“Which is why it’s important we do it,” Hux tells him. “Because you _do_ deserve it. You are **magnificent**.”  


Kylo maybe - just for a moment - feels it. Through Hux, and the shock of self-love is enough to make him grind down on those fingers and feel the dry climax milked from him. 

“ _Fuck me, please fuck me, please take me. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this, I will try harder…”_  


The fingers withdraw, and then one legs is bent back. His knee touches his ear, and Hux settles between his thighs. He slips inside with relative ease, only a minor burn and tingle from the stretch. Kylo tries to urge him deeper, but Hux is going slow and Kylo has to deal with it.

One hand finds his, even cuffed as it is, and their fingers tie together in knots. He gazes up and reads the affection and care on Hux’s face, and the weight of the adoration feels like that in his own heart. It’s reflected back at him, in the only way he’d ever wanted. He’d only ever wanted to be loved, to be important, to be safe and protected. To _matter_ , even if knowing he is causes terror. 

“I love you,” Kylo whispers, feeling the slow roll of Hux’s weight against him. It’s not enough to get off to, but it feels damn nice, all the same. “I love you. I love you. _I love you_. I - I need you to know, I do, I do–”  


Hux’s face _melts_ , and Kylo calls in shock at the waves of emotion he can sense rippling from his beloved Emperor. Just utter love and not one trace of negative feeling. It’s cleansing in its terror, and Kylo’s heart shatters inside of him.

“I love you too,” Hux says, his hands moving to hold Kylo’s hips. They won’t get off on this angle and speed, but he’s extending it as long as he can. “I love you so very, very much, Kylo. I’ll tell you every day if you need me to. I love you, and I want to make you happy. Nothing more.”  


“I am I am I am–”  


“ _Then why don’t you let me love you_?”

Hux’s voice is pained, for the first time. Kylo looks up and realises what he’s done. He’s been so determined to see himself as deserving of pain that he hasn’t seen how it could hurt Hux to make him witness his own depraved, self-loathing-self. How would he feel if Hux hated Hux as much as Kylo hates himself? How would he cope seeing misery? Some, maybe, but to this level?

And he says he loves and trusts Hux?

“P-please…” Kylo begs, and pulls at his wrists. “I- I need my hands…”  


Hux’s jaw twitches, and he nods.

Kylo unhitches the binders with the Force, and grabs his arms around Hux. Hux, who is still fucking him fiercely, and he buries his hands into his hair, pulling him to his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. I love you, I’m so sorry. Please. I’ll try harder. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

A hand in his own hair, almost stinging, and Hux slams their foreheads together as he continues to ride him. “I just need you happy.”

Like Kylo needs Hux happy, and denying him that is awful. Is horrible, and cruel, and disgusting of him. He has to let himself be loved, he has to _love himself_. He holds on tighter, and kisses Hux’s face frantically as he promises he will, he will try, he will try.

Hux is crying too, and when his climax hits it’s messy, scrambly, leg-kicking. He barely takes two breaths before he beats Kylo right over the edge after him. The orgasm is both beautiful and needed… as well as a punch to the gut. Warm spurts over belly and hand, the strange relics of lust. 

They drop to the bed together, and Kylo kisses Hux’s tears away like Hux had done for him. He’s tired, but it’s important. 

“I promise,” he says, around salt-licked wounds. “I promise. I might - I might still need some pain, but I promise I won’t be afraid of this. Or…”  


“It’s okay.” Hux’s voice is gruff with hurt, but happy, too. “Whatever you need. Whatever you need from me, Kylo. I love you, and it’s _yours_.”  


“ _Everything_ ,” he whispers. This. Whips. Chains. Cuddles. Kisses. _Everything_. He needs it all, and he hugs him as tightly to his chest as he possibly can.   


“It’s yours,” Hux promises again.  


“I’ll try to feel worthy.” It is an honest promise, and it gets him held all the tighter still.   



End file.
